


wasteland, baby!

by blackbirdskies



Category: The Walking Dead (Telltale Video Game)
Genre: Alternate Universe - High School, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, F/F, Healing, Slow Burn, amputee clem, delinquent vi, lighthearted at times and serious/angsty at other times, loosely canon parallel
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-09-15
Updated: 2019-09-18
Packaged: 2020-10-18 23:27:43
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 9,263
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20647454
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/blackbirdskies/pseuds/blackbirdskies
Summary: Clementine lost her leg two years ago, and since then, she stopped playing the sport she loved, isolated herself from most of the people she knew, and stopped going to school. Her adoptive father, Lee, and brother, AJ, were finally able to convince her to give school another shot, and today is her first day.Violet’s best friend and the girl she was in love with left a year ago, and since then, she has grown cold and unable to trust, drifting away from her friends. She usually doesn’t bother to show up to school, but the only thing waiting for her at home is her drunk father, her mother practically living at work, so she might as well go to class today.Together they’ll eventually learn to heal.





	1. you are unbreaking

The weathered red bricks of Ericson Academy rise up in the golden morning light as Clementine pulls into the parking space, the car’s low rumble halting as she switches the engine off and slides out of the driver’s seat of Kenny’s old Wrangler. Lee had wanted to drop her off on her first day, but he would’ve been late to work. She didn’t want to be a burden.

Her burden drops to the asphalt as she stands shakily.

Clad in normal, average, beat-up sneakers, the standard teenage staple, nothing seems out of the ordinary. But underneath the surface, Clem knows it’s a different story. Just below her left knee, skin and flesh abruptly end and give way to lightweight plastic and metal. A state-of-the-art prosthetic, and the anchor that traps her as if she were being pulled under the waves.

The girl exhales deeply, trying to dispel her anxiety and avoid another spiral of negative thoughts, before she begins walking towards the school, making sure that her gait didn’t look unusual to bystanders. Although this is her first day of school, she and Lee had made sure that she was well acquainted with her schedule and the layout of the school beforehand, because the last thing she wants is to be wandering around like a sad lost duckling a month into the school year, drawing everyone’s attention to her.

She pushes past the clusters of students in the courtyard and slips into a somewhat isolated hallway, all the way down to the end until she finds her first period classroom: art. It’s one of her more private interests, but Clem had always enjoyed drawing as a kid, and once she got to middle school she chose art as one of her electives simply because she didn’t know what else to pick. It had brought her a good deal of trouble, as her rebellious middle schooler self had butted heads with the art teacher over not wanting to be told what to draw or thinking the assignments were stupid. And the past two years since her injury were spent taking online classes, not attending a real high school art class, so she isn’t sure what to expect. She does have one thing on her side, though—the months she spent unable to walk had left her with little to do except draw, so she had become quite skilled at detailed sketches and watercolor.

Wanting to avoid a confrontation with the teacher or with other students, she simply makes a beeline towards a seat in the back row, assuming that it will most likely not already be taken. There is a couple minutes before the bell would ring, and only a handful of kids are hanging out in the class, some quietly hunching over their phones, some milling around the teacher. Once the bell rings and all the students filter into the room, Clementine could see that there are only a dozen or so people in the class.

Suddenly, the chair next to hers scrapes and she jumps, turning her head to see a girl with auburn hair and a kind-looking face with a generous smattering of freckles slipping into the seat next to her.

“Hey there! You must be new? I’m Brody.” The girl beams at Clementine, her voice filled with far too much energy for eight in the morning, although her sunny tone still feels reassuring. 

Piercing amber eyes blink at her and she manages a small smile in reply. “I’m Clementine. It’s my first day at Ericson.”

Brody hums thoughtfully, “Don’t be nervous, honey. The people here’re fine, as far as high school goes. It’s been a while since we’ve seen a new face - tell ya what, if you want, you can come sit with me and my friends at lunch. Just so you can get to know some people.”

“Sure. Thanks,” Clementine smiles. They don’t have a chance to continue their conversation, because at that moment the teacher walks to the front and begins to address the class, so they both turn to listen.

Soon, though, Clementine starts to find it hard to focus. She had forgotten what being in school was like, how you had to just sit there quietly and listen - and it didn’t help that she has no idea what they were working on right now. By the time the teacher starts talking about last Friday’s test, she had officially zoned out, instead taking in the scenery: bored and sleepy teenagers, tattered backpacks, o’Keefe and Monet paintings, dirty palettes on the counters, tree branches swaying in the golden rays that flood through the classroom’s windows... and the creeping hands of the clock. It feels like it takes years for the dismissal bell to blare out, Brody tossing her a singsong, “Bye!” before gathering her things and heading out of the classroom. Clementine takes longer to rise, being it was slightly awkward to get up with her prosthetic. She trails behind her classmates at a leisurely pace, on towards her next class.

—

By noon, any hope or eagerness she had felt about returning to school after the injury had crawled into a grave and perished forever, so dead that it would eventually go on to serve as fossil fuel for the future cephalopod master race. When Clem was younger, she was extremely bright, always an effortless straight-A student who had no trouble paying attention in class and cranking out essays like it was nothing. Sometimes, it was hard to imagine that she was that same little girl.

She is looking forward to her next class, though. She’s now headed to fourth period: history. Although she pretends to be annoyed with Lee’s nerdy history facts or long lectures during car rides, in reality, he had taught her a lot over the years. She could probably walk in there and school the teacher. When she steps through the door, the classroom was already relatively full, so she takes a seat next to a boy with a scraggly goatee, which, really? He is focused on the notebook he had in front of him, and does not react to her presence at all. Quirking an eyebrow, Clem begins to settle her things into their proper places.

“Well hi there!” The sudden voice startles her, and she gasps out a quiet sonofabitch as her head whips up to see a tall, dreadheaded boy standing there at the seat across from her. He’s kind of goofy looking, lanky in the way that one is when someone just grabs all four limbs and stretches you out, and the freckles dancing across his cheekbones give his face a playful, childlike quality. He’s wearing clothes that make Clementine think hipster, not that Clem knows much about fashion, basically just throwing on whatever when she finally drags herself from bed. Suddenly, he looks at the boy next to her. “Aasim, did you finally make a friend?”

Aasim barely glances up. “Huh?”

“No, I’m new,” Clementine supplies helpfully.

“Oh, so you’re the new girl! I’m Louis. Did you just move here?” Louis takes the seat across from her, folding his hands playfully as if he is interviewing her.

“Clementine. And, uh, no, not really.” She looks away as her brows furrow, and feels lucky when the teacher starting class interrupts their discussion. She hasn’t really figured out an excuse for her two-year absence yet. Clem doesn’t like lying, but she also doesn’t want people she just met to know all about her tragic backstory. She hates that anything she had been through qualified as a tragic backstory. She doesn’t want to be treated like she’s different, like she is fragile, like she is damaged.

A good while in, the sound of the door opening interrupts the teacher, Mr. Randall, from his lecture about due dates and shoot me an email if you have any questions and causes approximately seventy-eight percent of the class to turn their heads. Clementine glances over, seeing a skinny girl with extremely poor posture slip through the door and trudge in her direction, dropping into the seat next to Louis with a heavy sigh.

“Nice of you to join us,” the teacher remarks, although he doesn’t seem horribly annoyed, and she guesses that this is a regular occurrence.

“Sure is,” the girl shoots back before proceeding to stick earbuds in her ears and drown out her surroundings with a bored look on her face. Then she sees Clementine, and merely quirks an eyebrow at her before ignoring her stare.

Clementine really hopes this girl wasn’t going to be some kind of jerk if they had to sit at the same table. With Aasim already focused on his little journal, and now her, she feels her spirits begin to drop, wishing that this class period could end so she could go to lunch and try to mentally recharge a little.

“Anyways, use the rest of the period to work on your group project. Remember, your topic was due last Friday, so if you were absent or you haven’t chosen yet you need to come talk to me. And this project is with your table partners only, so just... try not to kill each other.”

_Damn it._

“Today’s your lucky day, Clementine! You’re in the company of expert historians.” Louis gives her an exaggerated grin.

“No offense, but that’s not really the vibe I get at all,” she says, glancing between Louis, beaming wide, Aasim, hunched over his journal, and the blonde girl, who looks like she’s actively trying to pretend the other three teens don’t exist. 

Although, when Clementine says that, her lips lift into a tiny smirk and she lets out a sarcastic snort. “Louis, you don’t know anything about history. Besides, our project is on the Battle of Savannah. It’s the most boring shit ever.”

Louis rapidly looks between the two of them, an exaggerated look of shock on his face. “Wow, both of you are mean! Screw you guys. Me and Aasim don’t need you.”

“I don’t need _any_ of you,” Aasim says without looking up from his journal.

The tall boy pouts, but apparently quickly recovers, turning to address the girl next to him. “Vi, why don’t you stop being mean and introduce yourself to the new girl? Don’t leave a girl hanging!”

She just rolls her eyes at him before looking at Clementine and giving her a lazy, unenthusiastic wave. “Violet.”

Clementine has been avoiding looking at her out of politeness, or perhaps awkwardness, but she feels that now she can look at her without the other girl getting offended that she’s staring or something. The first thing she notices is that Violet is wearing a beaten-up denim vest even though it’s still pretty hot outside, and it’s decorated with a few pins. Her blonde hair is short, and slightly tousled in a way that says I don’t care, but despite that, it looks soft. The ends of her hair fade into a soft lavender shade, and it’s tucked behind one ear, which she can see is covered in piercings. Her face, like her body, was bony, and her nose looked kind of crooked but not in a bad way. Clementine thinks that she looks cool, despite her uninviting demeanor which kind of intimidates her; but Clem herself has been guarded and at times downright rude to all but the very special few ever since her accident, so she supposes she doesn’t have room to complain about appearances.

Suddenly self-conscious that she has probably been staring for too long, she snaps back to reality. “Um, I’m Clementine,” she offers with a hesitant smile. Something in Violet’s eyes relaxes, or perhaps softens, and she simply nods. Then, the bell was ringing and she was the first one out of her seat and into the halls. Louis gets up too, but he looks at Clem, giving her an apologetic smile. “She grows on you, I promise.” Then he’s out the door, trying to catch up with Aasim.

Clementine is alone again, and she feels her shoulders drop. It’s been two whole years since she’s really left the house, or had to talk to people, much less new people. She’s not one to back down from difficulty, but it’s taking a lot of energy just to get through this day, so that’s why she heads to the library instead of the courtyard or the cafeteria. The girl in first period, Brody, may have invited her to sit with her at lunch, but she doesn’t think she wants to talk to anyone right now.

The library is a huge round room with high dome-shaped ceilings and a sun roof that pours rich golden light over the many stacks of books within its walls. Clearly, the school spared no expense. It kind of feels like a sanctuary to Clem, who lets the warmth embrace her. She spends a few minutes idly wandering around looking at book covers, before sinking into a leather chair and pulling out her phone. There are two texts from Lee.

_7:56 A.M._  
**Lee: Good luck, sweet pea! I know you’ll be fine. We’re having your favorite tonight.**

_12:34 P.M._  
**Lee: How’s everything going?**

She quickly types out a reply.

_1:04 P.M._  
Clementine: It’s going okay.

It’s curt, but she doesn’t have the energy to give him a detailed response right now and just hopes Lee won’t read a negative tone into her words. She may be feeling ambivalent right now but she doesn’t want him to feel bad or be disappointed. Lee has done so much for her and AJ, and in return all she managed to do was invite trouble and tragedy. He deserves a normal daughter, not one who got all damaged and twisted when her parents died, and then got her leg amputated and refused to leave the house for two years. He’s too good a man to ever see Clem as a burden, but she still feels like he would be happier without her.

—

Clem pushes open the door to her house, sighing heavily and dumping her backpack and keys on the first surface she sees. The rest of the day had passed in a blur, but she had started to walk in an awkward, unnatural manner as the school day came to a close, finding it difficult to stay focused on walking normally as her energy waned. That’s why the first thing she does is plop onto their ludicrously comfortable leather couch and slip off her prosthetic leg, revealing her stump. It was clad in its usual purple sock - her favorite color. One thing they didn’t tell you about losing everything below the knee in a freak baseball accident was how hot and uncomfortable it was to wear that thick sock under your jeans in the Georgia summer. But Clem refuses to leave the house wearing anything other than long pants. She doesn’t think she can handle the stares she might get.

She has about forty-five minutes until AJ gets out of school, so she grabs the remote and flicks on the TV, turning it to some trashy reality show. She likes the over-the-topness and exaggerated drama, getting to forget about normal worries in favor of watching two Botoxed-up middle-aged white women rip out each other’s hair over a passive aggressive comment. Plus, it fueled her supply of creative insults. AJ used to make fun of her for it, but once he stopped saying anything about it, Clementine knew she had gotten him hooked.

After a few minutes, her phone buzzes. She glances over to see a single text, and an icy jolt runs through her body as she picks her phone up and sees the name.

_2:56 P.M._  
**Javi: Lee told me that today was your first day back to school. Congrats, Clem.**

Clementine clenches her jaw—of course Lee would tell him. Traitor.

She swipes left to rid the notification from her old baseball coach from her lock screen and tosses her phone to the opposite end of the couch, out of reach, before drawing her knees into her chest and hunching her shoulders. She tries to focus on the television.

But after that, she couldn’t, her anxiety over school nibbling at her heart like when one of AJ’s pet mice would get out and quietly chew on stuff in the corner of Clem’s closet. So she gets up, goes over to her backpack and flips through her homework, then decides she didn’t care enough and goes to go hop in her car. The drive to AJ’s elementary school only takes about five minutes, and when she pulls up to the curb she can see her adoptive brother wave at some skinny boy who looks like a rat that got hit with a blowdryer as he dashes over to her and hops into the backseat.

“Hey, goofball, how was school?” She looks over to AJ, his presence bringing a genuine smile to her face.

He rolls his eyes, irritated at the nickname which he hates but will never, even if zombies took over the world, get rid of, but he doesn’t say anything. Instead, he just scrunches his face. “I got into an argument with the teacher today because she said that pterosaurs are dinosaurs when they’re not. I almost got sent to the principal’s office, but then Willy backed me up.”

The teen laughs. She is completely, totally, wholly unaware who might have given him this rebellious streak of his. “Way to stick it to the man,” she says, pulling away from the curb and slowly traversing through the elementary schooler-infested streets. “You are truly every teacher’s worst nightmare.”

That night, after Lee made dinner, Clementine makes a beeline for her bedroom. She loves her family, but today was just too much and she especially doesn’t want to deal with any questions about school. She looks at her math homework again, but all these numbers and symbols mean absolutely nothing to her and she sighs in defeat before putting it away, letting it be another day’s problem.

It may be only eight pm, but Clem clumsily kicks her pants off and lets her curly brown hair down, crawling under her yellow comforter. Her eyes travel around the bedroom cloaked in velvety darkness, idly taking in the perfect, neat, cutesy decor, your stereotypical teenage girl’s bedroom. She bitterly thinks that the perfect happy girl with a perfect happy bedroom left two years ago. The unkempt piles of clothes and random crap littering the hardwood weren’t visible from this angle, hidden by the illusion.

She is asleep before she even knows it.

—

Louis and Violet bicker all through fourth period, or, more accurately, Louis annoys Violet. Clementine doesn’t pay much attention to what they are saying, her head propped on her palm, her other hand absentmindedly playing with her pencil. She is committing the cardinal sin of group projects, being unhelpful because you’re too focused on your own shit. To her credit, the other three haven’t done a single second of actual work in the past two days she’s been here, and she doubts that will change for the rest of the week.

Once the class ends, Clementine quickly exits and heads to the library again. She really needs to try and get this stupid math homework done. But no matter how hard she tries to understand, she barely struggles through the first few problems before she hits a dead end and is unable to continue. She feels stupid, useless. Leaning back in her seat, she closes her eyes and groans softly, wishing she could return to the days when first grade was easy and force herself to consistently pay attention in class.

“Trouble?” A soft, raspy voice sounds from in front of her, and Clementine jumps, startled. She opens her eyes to see Violet standing before her, slightly leaning on the table, a small, teasing smirk pulling at her lips.

“Oh! Uh… I guess. I fucking suck at algebra,” she admitted sheepishly. Violet lifted an eyebrow, and seemed to consider something for a few moments, before she was suddenly plopping down in the chair next to her. Somehow, she managed to position her body on two pieces of plastic joined at a ninety-degree angle as chaotically and haphazardly as possible.

“Well, I don’t… so do you maybe want some help or something?”

The dark-skinned girl blinked once, twice, in surprise. “I mean, sure.”

Violet averted her gaze and reached over, sliding the worksheet towards her. She glanced at it for a few moments before snorting softly. “This? This is easy.” Clementine feels heat surge to her cheeks but then the blonde looks embarrassed and quickly amends, “I meant, it’ll be totally easy for you to figure out. So don’t sweat it.” She fumbles for Clementine’s pencil and points it at the paper, angling so that Clem can see. “See, you just have to take this number and then…”

Suddenly, Violet’s phone, which she had tossed on the table, starts buzzing rapidly. When Violet doesn’t reach for it, Clem quirks an eyebrow. “Aren’t you gonna get that?”

She glances at it and shrugs. “It’s Louis. Usually I just ignore him.”

Clementine pulls a mock-offended look, “Um, wow. Way to treat an expert historian.”

Violet rolls her eyes before actually picking up her phone to look at it, and then furrows her brows. “He wants me to come sit with him. I guess… with you being new and all, you could come with. Meet our friends and stuff.”

The other girl simply nods hastily. “Yeah. This math stuff sucks anyway.”

Standing up, she shoves the worksheet back into her backpack before following Violet out the doors. She doesn’t want to make it obvious that she doesn’t know where everything is, so she tries to act like she knows where she’s going as she follows Violet to the cafeteria. When they get there, it is surprisingly calm and quiet. The last time she had been in a school cafeteria was when she went to a public middle school, and Ericson, being somewhat fancier, is a welcome change of pace. The two girls weave through tables and students until they come upon a familiar dreadlocked head, which swivels to look at them as if the owner’s hearing was as attuned to Violet’s slouching gait as a dog was to the sound of a Ziplock bag being opened.

“Violet! I can’t believe you actually came! It’s been like a year since you’ve even sat with us—oh wow, and you brought Clementine!” Louis looks like he just witnessed the second coming of Christ, and Christ flew away on a pig. Violet looks like she’s about to stab Louis. Clementine looks at Violet with confusion.

“Wait, you don’t usually-“

“Clementine’s here? I knew you’d find us.” Suddenly Clementine notices that Brody is sitting at their table, along with Aasim, though he is drowning out the world as usual. There are a few other teens sitting amongst them, but none that she recognizes.

Louis looks at Brody. “You know Clem?”

“Yeah, we have art together,” Clementine interjects. Violet, almost imperceptibly, glances at her when she says this, looking interested. Somehow, the girl had made herself invisible once the others had entered the scene, standing off to the side with her arms crossed. Clementine found it quite curious.

The two took their seats, Clem across from Louis, and Violet next to her on the end seat. “Well, welcome to our humble group of misfits,” Louis announces, his larger-than-life persona seeming to dazzlingly take over the whole cafeteria. “You know Brody and Aasim, obviously, but then there’s Mitch, Omar, Ruby, and finally Marlon.” He punches the shoulder of the boy next to him, who she immediately notices has a blonde beast of a hairdo that seems like a cross between a mullet and a mohawk. He gestures to the other three—Mitch, a scowling boy with messy brown hair, Omar, a kind-looking stocky boy, and Ruby, a fierce redhead.

“Fresh meat, huh? You look strong,” Marlon evaluates. “You should consider joining the baseball team. We’ve been a few people short for a while now.”

Clementine isn’t prepared for his words, or the way that it feels like needles are gripping her heart. Knowing that her expression must have instantly soured, she takes a deep breath and tries to regain her composure. “Um, no thanks. I don’t really like sports.”

Marlon shrugs. “That’s too bad. We could definitely use someone who knows what they’re doing right about now.”

“Yeah,” Louis adds. “It’s like, way more fun than I thought it would be when I first joined.”

Clementine just nods and smiles, their voices fading away into insignificance as if blown away by a winter storm.

She also isn’t prepared for the pained look that is evident on Violet’s face once she turns her head. It confuses her so much that for a second, she almost forgets about the bad memories that fight to surface in her mind. Why would baseball be a sore subject for her, too?

—

She is sitting in traffic again, surrounded by swarms of schoolchildren. Most would probably be frustrated by now, but Clem didn’t mind. It made her happy to see the little kids holding hands with young parents, and it meant that she got to see AJ soon, who was arguably her best friend. Though he was sometimes annoying and/or frustration and/or a force of chaos and destruction, they were a team.

Soon, her little brother was jumping into the backseat. “Hi Clem! How was school?”

She made a vague but grumpy noise, which caused AJ to grin. “It drives me to drink. So, how about a slurpee?”

You see, being siblings with AJ was like playing chess—she knew that he was in the mood for a slurpee like he always was on a hot day, but she knew that he would never come right out and ask. He liked to feel tough and independent.

“Um, duh.”

Before the car had even rolled to a stop in front of the 7/11, AJ was clambering out of it. She rolls her eyes before grabbing her money and following him inside. AJ gets his usual combo, half cherry and half Coke—he isn’t allowed to drink caffeine yet so getting a Coke-flavored slurpee made him feel like he was getting away with something—while she experiments with the new flavors, as she always did. Right now the options are Nerds and some sugar-free crap. She quickly pays and they head outside back to the car, when AJ suddenly stops and tugs on her arm.

“Clem, wait.”

She looks at him before following the direction he was pointing in, confused at first. It looks like a normal empty parking lot. Then, looking harder, she sees that rummaging through a dumpster, there is a large, red-furred dog.

Her brother is already heading towards it, and she begins to follow, tensing up. “AJ stop-“

Suddenly, he produces a package of string cheese from his pocket. She blinks. “Um.”

He approaches the dog before she is able to grab him and hold him back, crouching down. “Here, buddy,” he says softly, holding out the unwrapped string cheese as an offering. The dog jumps when it notices them, and growls quietly, but then its eyes fall on the food and it skitters forward with its tail between its legs. AJ holds still, until it finally reaches him and sniffs the cheese. Clementine clenches her teeth, wanting to intervene but knowing that if she makes a sudden move it might startle the dog into attacking.

Then, the dog gently reaches forward and delicately takes the offering from his hand, seemingly unbothered by the no doubt lukewarm and gross nature of the cheese. As quick as it was there, it retreats, and that’s when Clementine sees that it is limping heavily. AJ must have noticed too, because he looks at her, and she can see the wheels turning in his head. He’s getting more clever—there was a time when he wouldn’t have noticed a small nuance like that. Clementine’s heart aches.

He stands up and brushes off his jeans before walking back to her. She sighs deeply, and climbs into the car without saying a word. The ride home is silent.

—

Once they get home, Clementine takes the stairs two at a time and goes straight to her room. She shuts the door hard and leans against it, as if physically holding herself together. Now that she is safe, alone, and has nothing but a long and hard night ahead of her, she can feel herself unraveling. The thoughts and memories finally find their way into the sun.

_A hot, sunny day. The red dirt of the baseball diamond on her white uniform. Sweat dripping down her neck. The cheers of the audience in the stands, her adoptive father and brother among them. The metal of a heavy bat gripped firmly in her hands. A tall, smirking girl standing in front of her. The whoosh of a baseball. The whistle of a swinging bat._

_A scream of pain. Red blood on her white uniform. Her leg, shattered into a million pieces. Falling to the ground. The gasp of the audience. Lee’s panicked face. AJ’s tears. Paramedics, and ambulance. Being carried away as the world descends to blackness._

_A hospital room. Waking up. A strange burning sensation. Flowers on the nightstand. Beeping and distant chatter. AJ coloring, Lee asleep in a chair. Sitting up. Pulling the sheets back._

_A missing leg._


	2. someone told me not to cry

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Clem gets to know her new friends better, and a secret is accidentally revealed.

Her sheets are so warm, cozy, and inviting. She wishes she could just curl up and stay here forever, never having to worry about the outside world again. But Clementine knows that today is Wednesday—the day she always makes AJ’s special chocolate chip pancakes. And if anything can motivate her to get up and fight through the struggle to give up, it’s the need to provide for her little brother.

When she opens her eyes, her room is dark. On pure instinct by now, she reaches for the prosthetic leg leaning on the side of her bed and wriggles it on over her stump sock. As she shuffles around her room groggily, snatching a pair of ripped jeans off the floor before pulling some top from her closet, she can see through her bedroom window that the sun hasn’t even risen yet. The whole downstairs is dark, except for a light shining past the living room. As she approaches, she sees Lee is in his office, dark eyes and darker eyebags fixed on the computer screen with a focused frown. Clementine pushes open the glass door, which seems to startle her adoptive father.

“Oh, hi, Clem,” he gives her a warm smile. “You’re up early. I haven’t seen much of you recently.”

“So are you,” she says, glancing from the computer screen with a word document open on it to the messy stacks of school papers piled upon his polished mahogany desk. “How long have you been down here?” The short girl crosses her arms and tilts her head at him, akin to a mother questioning her child.

The man leans back in his chair and seems to let it swallow him up, speaking to his aching back and tired shoulders. He glances at his watch, “A couple of hours probably.”

“_Lee_,” Clem chastises. “If you burn out and die from stress, who is supposed to raise me and AJ?”

“Please,” he laughs. “You’re more capable than I am. You wouldn’t even notice if I was gone.”

Leaning against the wood paneled walls, she pulls her arms to her chest, saying offhandedly, “I doubt that.”

Though he doesn’t say anything, she can tell he looks happy to hear that. Suddenly he gets up. “Okay, off the expensive paneling, you wild child.” He shoos her out of the room and follows, closing the door. “How about breakfast?”

“Today is pancake day. But, you can help with the other stuff.”

They head into the kitchen, as Clementine flicks the lights on and grabs a pan, some mixing bowls, and everything else she needs. Then she gathers her ingredients, which included milk, dark, and white chocolate chips. AJ insists on having all three kinds, which she honestly thinks is weird and makes it three times more expensive than just getting one bag, but they all tolerated each others’ quirks. For the most part.

As the first batch of pancakes hits the stove and Lee pours the frozen blackberries they had picked as well as some random healthy crap into the blender, she hears AJ’s door open. The boy and his wild hair enter the kitchen, situating onto a barstool. Soon, breakfast is made. AJ wolfs down the majority of the pancakes, while Lee just sticks to his separate small and simple healthy meal and Clementine eats what AJ leaves behind. Before she even knows it, it’s time to leave. Her and Lee head out the door together and get into their separate cars, while AJ gets to enjoy a little more freedom.

—

She twirls her keys around her finger as she enters the classroom, sliding into her seat next to Brody. After the bell rings, it becomes apparent that their art teacher is not there and a sub takes roll before basically just letting them do whatever. A chill morning is always welcome with Clementine, who leans back in her seat.

“Hey Clem,” her seat neighbor calls. “Do you wanna help me with something I’ve been working on?”

She turns to Brody, seeing a sketch book laid out in front of her. Taking a closer look, she takes in the intricate drawing of what looks to be an ordinary tree with a tire swing hanging from it, only it was drawn in a fantastical, exaggeratedly cartoonish style.

“It’s really good,” she comments as she meets the girl’s blue-gray eyes.

“Thanks,” she smiles nervously. “I like to do still life, or y’know just normal things that I see every day. But I try to draw it in my own special style, just to give it a little twist. So, anyways, I was wondering if you wanted to help me color it?”

“Sure, sounds like fun.” She browses the selection before choosing a light purple shade for the sky, starting at the opposite side of the paper as Brody.

“Purple? Interesting choice.”

“Well, it happens to be my favorite color,” Clementine remarks.

The auburn-haired girl nodded, satisfied. After a few minutes of coloring, the girl looks at her. “You’re a pretty quiet one, aren’tcha?”

“I mean, I guess.” She shrugs. “I didn’t expect to meet this many people the first day.”

“We’re a package deal,” Brody grins. “Well, tell me about yourself! What’s your family like? What school did you go to before here? Any dreams?”

“I have a little brother and a dad. Me and AJ, we’re both adopted though. I’ve been with Lee, my dad, since I was eight. We… we’re more of a family than some people who are actually related, though.”

Brody, the sweet girl, seems actually interested in what she is saying and isn’t just asking her these things to be polite. She’s grateful for the other girl’s tact when she doesn’t ask about Clementine’s parents, her real parents, and just says, “Well that sounds nice! Me, it’s just me, my mom, and the chickens. I like it that way.”

“And… I went to Richmond before here.”

Brody looks confused. “Middle school? Wait, but I thought you were a junior too?”

Clementine winces slightly, knowing that this question would come eventually but having hoped that she would be able to avoid it a little longer. “Yeah, that’s the thing. It’s been… a couple years since I even went to school. I just started back on Monday.”

“Wow. I had no idea. I woulda helped you out more on your first day if I had known.” She reaches out a rests a comforting hand on the brunette’s shoulder. “And, you don’t have to worry now. Me, Louis, Vi, Marlon, and all the others—we’re your friends now. We’ll help you with anything you need.” When she sees Clementine’s face visibly brighten, she gives her a smile. “Though… if you don’t mind me asking, why didn’t you go to school?”

Feeling her mood lift at Brody’s friendly sentiment, it crashes at that. She grows tense, before sighing. “I do but I don’t, Brody. The short story is… I got hurt, and I had to do physical therapy and stuff for a long time. But I’m fine now,” she quickly adds, her gaze hardening and amber eyes darkening.

Brody gives her a knowing nod, clearly keeping her distance and not pushing it too far. It’s not like Clementine wants to hide the truth about her leg forever, because she knows she’d be found out eventually and it would get really messy from there, but she doesn’t know when she wants to tell them. She doesn’t even know how to tell them something like that. Clementine just knows one thing: as they continue to color in silence, she’s grateful for the gentle soul that is Brody.

—

When she walks into history class, jaw clenched and shoulders tense from the clusterfuck that is Algebra II, the room is already filled with lively chatter, and a large bulk of it is coming from Louis, who seems to be aggressively debating with Violet over something. When she approaches, they both turn to look at her, Violet’s gaze hawklike, Louis’s mirthful.

“Oh, my darling Clementine! There you are!” Louis calls to her. “Help us settle this,” he demands as Clementine merely gives him a strange look and settles into her seat. “Hot Cheetos or hot fries? I’m team Cheetos, Violet is hot fries, b-t-w.”

“You can’t just say textspeak out loud,” Violet complains. Louis ignores her.

“Uh, I think they both taste the same,” Clementine says flatly.

“Tell it to this idiot. He’s been hounding me ever since he saw me with a bag of hot fries.” Violet’s arms are crossed, one leg lazily perched over the other. She wears a scowl, although Clementine isn’t sure if she’s just imagining it, or if it the frown doesn’t reach her eyes.

“You’re both _delusional_,” Louis scoffs. The lanky boy deflates into his seat.

Clementine rolls her eyes, “I thought that was a prerequisite for being in this club.”

“Hey!” Louis launches a pencil at her, which she dodges, although he can’t fully hide his laughter. “I think we can _all_ agree that I’m a very handsome genius.”

With both a face and a voice that don’t match her words, she just says, “Yeah, I guess you’re right.” Surprisingly, her shoulders still end up feeling lighter as a result of his antics.

Violet scowls, for real this time, at the interaction taking place next to her. “You’re just falling into his trap.”

“There’s no traps here, it’s all natural, baby. Don’t get jealous, Vi, get better.” Louis goes in to boop her nose.

The blonde girl just swats his hand away. “Fine, maybe I will, asshole.”

He then turns to Clem. “Anyways, I was thinking!”

“Uh oh.”

“Shush. Anyways, I think that we should have a little study buddy party at my house! We can get to know you better, and we can like, study, or something.”

“Somehow I don’t think much actual studying is going to get done, but I mean—sure.” Clementine feels kind of surprised that he’s inviting her. Despite his friendly attitude, and despite what Brody had said in art class, she didn’t expect any of them to _actually_ want to hang out with her, or even talk to her as more than just a courtesy.

“Great! Gimme your number, I’ll text you my address.” He slides his phone, which looks like the newest model, across the table over to her and she diligently types in her number, then sneakily puts her contact name as ‘Queen Clem’, before returning it.

“Violet, Aasim, you guys need to come too. Pretty please?”

“Fine.” Violet rolls her eyes.

“Aasim?” Louis gives him what seems to be his rendition of puppy eyes, and the other boy shrugs.

“I mean, I guess. You’re lucky that I don’t have a lot of homework.”

Now Clementine just has to figure out how she’s going to act cool and socially acceptable enough for the duration of this gathering. Crap.

—

“Friends? You have friends now?” Lee is so excited, it looks like he’s about to go frolicking into a field of daisies.

“I mean, I’ve known them for like, three days,” Clementine points out. She doesn’t want to get her hopes up if they lose interest in her, but it seems like everyone around her is making that really hard.

“Then you should’ve told me three days ago. I would’ve made you a cake, or taken you out for victory ice cream.”

Celebratory ice cream was a tradition that had started when she would get A’s on tests in elementary school, but it was mainly something they did when her old baseball team won a game. After she lost her leg, it became something they did when she reached a new recovery milestone, like being able to walk or run again. She didn’t really like the taste of ice cream anymore. All it did was remind her that they’d never celebrated her being able to play baseball again because it would never happen. All it would do now is associate something as easy as making new friends with ‘recovery’—a reminder that even something basic was an achievement for her.

“I don’t need you to take me for ice cream, I just need you to make sure AJ doesn’t set his room on fire again.” She rolls her eyes at Lee, trying to bury her negative thoughts under sarcasm. “Anyways, I’ll be home in a few hours. Bye!” She grabs her backpack and her keys, heading towards the front door

“Bye! Love you!”

Clementine tosses out a, “Love you back!” behind her as she closes the door and climbs into her car. She looks down at her clothes somewhat dubiously. She decided to keep the same outfit as school, not wanting it to seem like she was trying super hard, only with the addition of a flannel, or what she dubs the go-to if she’s trying to dress a bit better without actually putting in any effort. Then, she glances at her phone, where she saw Louis’s text with his address and a ‘your majesty’ for good measure. She doesn’t recognize the street name, but Google Maps says it’s only twenty minutes away, towards the outskirts of town.

As she drives up the winding road, her confusion quickly turns to surprise. Every house she has passed has been, well… not a house at all. They were _mansions_. It’s not like she lived in a trailer or something, but she still finds it hard to believe that she goes to school with someone who lives in this neighborhood. Just as she’s considering whether Louis actually pranked her, the robotic voice announces that she’s arrived to her destination. The house in front of her is no less fancy than any of its neighbors, so Clementine swallows her nerves and approaches the door. She hopes she won’t get the cops called on her for looking too poor or breathing or something. After a moment of hesitation, she knocks.

It takes about thirty seconds for the lock to click and the door swings open to reveal Louis’s face. Her eyes damn near pop out.

“You made it! Welcome to my humble abode,” in typical dramatic Louis fashion, he swings his arm to reveal the equally fancy and intricate interior.

Stepping through the threshold like a stray cat that just got brought home for the first time, she eyes the expensive decor and feels like a tiny scuff of dirt that needs to be wiped out of the foyer. “Um, Louis… what exactly do your parents do?”

He shrugs innocently as he heads into what must be the living room. “They work.”

Clementine follows him into the living room. She sees that Violet is curled up on the couch like a little rat curled up in its nest, playing with her phone.

_Not, like, in a rude way though. I don’t have any problem with AJ’s mice._

Clementine lifts a hand in greeting. “Hey.”

Violet glances at her. “Hey.”

While the two girls are sitting there somewhat awkwardly, Louis moves for a pack of cards that was sitting on the coffee table. Clementine perches on a leather wingback chair that probably costs more than her life, feeling extremely self-conscious. But Louis just slumps into the other couch and kicks his feet up on the table, folding the deck of cards. “So, it turns out I think studying is pretty lame and boring. Instead, we can play some totally awesome and not boring card games. It’s kind of a tradition with us, so think of it as an initiation ritual.”

Clementine isn’t terribly surprised or heartbroken. Trying not to stare around the room like a man who just woke up from a coma and is going outside for the first time, she looks into Louis’s doe-like brown eyes. “Okay. What are we playing?”

“_War_,” he says in a voice that he probably thinks is dramatic. “The oldest game around. The only game there is. Stealer of children. Maker of wid-“

Violet suddenly sits up and raises her voice over his, “Basically, everybody picks a card. Highest card wins. Lowest card loses.” She wrestles the deck of cards from Louis’s grip, tucking a smaller stack into his palm in its stead and then taking another stack for herself before handing Clem her deck. Their hands briefly brush, which is pretty jarring for a teenage girl who experiences, like, no human contact. She quickly fumbles for a card before returning the deck to the table.

“Yes! And, whoever wins gets to ask Clem a question. That way we can get to know our new bestie. Okay, flip!” As Louis says this, he flips his card and a triumphant expression crosses his face.

Violet glances at his card, her face neutral, before they both look at Clem, who’s holding a three. “Damn.”

“I win!” Louis sings. “Okay, question time. Here’s a warmup: why do you always wear that hat?”

She reaches for the bill absentmindedly. Her trusty blue-and-white baseball cap, with all its frayed threads and peeling iron-on, was pretty beat-up, but the only time she took it off was to sleep. Many people asked about its obvious significance, and she tells Louis what she tells everyone else: “It was my dad’s.”

He looks kind of confused, but just shrugs and flips another card. Violet, who seems to have a talent for appearing like she’s not listening when she really is, has a curious, understanding glint in her eyes.

Clementine wins the next round. “Ha! Losers.”

“Okay, what do you want to know?” Louis perches his hands on the table.

“Hmm… ever… met anyone famous?”

Violet simply answers, “No.”

Louis shakes his head as well. “You’d think my neighbors would be movie stars or something, right? But I guess Georgia isn’t the most popular place for celebrities.”

“I met a guy who was a baseball player once,” Clem offers. “Like, for money.” She leaves out the little detail that Javi was actually her former coach and a close family friend of hers. These new friends are a chance to start over—a chance to forget stupid baseball. If she tells them, it’ll just become her ‘thing’ again. It’s not like there’s anything particularly interesting or memorable about her besides her ability to swing a bat and run around bases.

Just then, there’s a knock at the door, and before Louis can go get it, it swings open. The three of them all look over and see Aasim entering, with the other boy from lunch, Mitch, strutting in with him. The pale boy shouts, “Hey guys!”

“Sorry, Louis,” Aasim cringes. “When he heard I was coming here, he assumed it was some kind of fun hangout and he just had to tag along.”

“That’s basically what it’s devolved to,” Violet snorts.

“The more the merrier!” Louis grins.

Aasim slinks off to the kitchen, while Mitch jumps onto the couch next to Louis and sprawls out. Violet gives him an unimpressed look.

“What’re we playing?” Mitch asks.

“War.” Louis hands him his own stack of cards and then gives one to Aasim as well when he comes back.

They all flip. Violet wins, and Aasim loses. “Why are you such a nerd?” She asks.

“Come on man, it’s not fun unless you put _some_ effort into it,” Louis complains.

“I mean, we’ve played this game, like, a million times.”

“Why are you gay?” Aasim shoots back, earning him a good-natured exasperated look from Louis too.

Clementine wins the next round. “So uhh…what’s the deal with Marlon’s hair?”

Violet bursts out laughing, and Louis sighs. “I tried to tell him not to do it. It looks like shit. But he says it’s ‘punk rock’.”

“You can be punk without looking like you skinned a fuckin’ Pomeranian,” Violet protests.

In the fifth round, Louis wins and Clem loses. He looks hesitant “Uh… Have you…”

“Spit it out.”

“Have you ever, like, had a boyfriend?”

“Oh my god.” Violet slams her arm on the armrest and sighs heavily, while Aasim makes a similarly-exasperated face and Mitch pretends to slap Louis.

“Never.”

“Really?” Louis looks surprised.

“_Never_.”

Violet gets up and goes to the kitchen. “You guys suck at this game. I’m leaving.”

“Same.” Mitch gets up and heads for the back door. “I’m jumping in the pool.”

—

The boys had all joined Mitch in the pool, while Clementine remains at the poolside table because she can’t get her prosthetic wet and it isn’t like she’s going to casually whip it off in front of them, and Violet remains by herself on the wooden deck, seemingly looking at something on her phone. Brody had joined them after her work shift ended, and the usually-sweet girl had bitched to Clem for a while about her jerkass manager and dumbass customers. Brody had helpfully informed her that Louis’s house was the go-to hangout spot that their friends met at most days, since it was so big and his parents always seemed to be traveling. On the small poolside table, next to Clementine’s phone and keys, Brody’s homework lays, with the auburn-haired girl deeply focused on it. Next to her, Clem watches Louis, Aasim, and Mitch horse around in the water.

In quiet moments like this, she feels everything catch up to her and her world is filled with a strange amount of clarity and _wakefulness_. A week ago, this was not how she would have expected her life to be going right now. Even though she knew she was going back to high school, she hadn’t been ready for how dramatic the change was. How the routine completely transformed her day, how she actually has something to _do_ now more than just hang out with Lee and AJ and screw around at home watching TV or playing video games or drawing. She especially wasn’t prepared for how she’d be sitting here at some ludicrously expensive mansion surrounded by people who actually want her here. As Clementine watches her friends—could they be called friends now?—laugh and splash around in the pool, her world tinged with the warm golden glow of the porch lights, she feels like everything’s going to be okay.

“Yo! Clem!” Louis breaks her out of her reverie. The freckled boy is perched on the pool wall, waving her over. She approaches him.

“What’s up?”

“Don’t you want to get in the pool? I have stuff I can lend you, I think. I can make sure those two clowns aren’t creepy to you if that’s what you’re worried about.” He looks at her quizzically, slight concern in his eyes.

The aforementioned boys have climbed out of the pool—Aasim went to check his phone, and Mitch is trying to wrestle it out of his grip. A teasing grin is on his lips. “Did your girlfriend text you? Lemme see! I’m a great wingman.”

“She’s not my girlfriend, dude!” Embarrassment crackles in his voice as Aasim feebly tries to fight the other boy off, but Mitch is stronger than him and probably hyped up on Monster energy drinks, so he quickly realizes that the best tactic is to flee, phone in hand.

Louis turns his head to watch them too. He quickly decides better of it, and Clementine feels like she can see slight hurt in his eyes as she meets them, though she isn’t exactly certain why.

“Um, no that’s fine I just-“ before she can finish her sentence, a heavy force slams into her and propels her forward.

“Shit!” She splashes into the water. The cold water shocks her entire body.

“Oh fuck! I’m so sorry, dude! I slipped!” Mitch does a tiny panicked dance above her, and then offers his hand to help pull her out.

Louis helps boost her up, and looks at Mitch as she pulls herself up onto the ground. “What the hell, man?”

Clementine brushes her wet, curly hair from her eyes and takes a moment to adjust. She’s dripping wet head to toe—great. “It’s fine, Mitch.” Suddenly, she becomes conscious of her prosthetic and panics. “I just—shit. I need to change.”

“Okay, I—I’ll help you get changed.” Louis pulls himself up onto the pool deck next to her.

Suddenly, Violet’s voice joins the fray. “I got this, Lou.” Clementine blinks back her shock as the other girl grabs her wrist, though Violet either doesn’t notice her surprise or ignores it. She dumbly lets herself be led to the back door, practically stumbling blindly. They pass Brody’s concerned and slightly confused gaze, when the skinny girl stops to drape a towel on her shoulders.

“Uh, thanks.”

“I just figured, y’know, the three of them combined are too stupid to screw in a lightbulb so I’d help you out. Or whatever.” Violet doesn’t meet her eye, and hunches her shoulders as she steps into the house and starts to leave Clementine behind. “C’mon.”

“Sure,” Clementine says to no one but herself. She hurries after Violet, anxious to dry her prosthetic leg off before any damage can be done to it. The girl leads her to a bathroom, probably one of seventeen in the house, and flicks the lights on. She gestures to the polished white room.

“You can change in here. Just gimme a second and I’ll see if I can find anything for you to wear.”

The darker girl smiles at her, hoping that she conveys her gratitude well despite how she looks and feels like a mess. “Thanks.”

Once Violet leaves, she quickly unbuttons her pants and wrestles her way out of the soaked denim.

_Shit shit shit._

She hurriedly wraps the towel around the prosthetic, and once the water is wiped away, she closely inspects it, trying to see if there’s any damage. To her relief, it seems to be fine. Clem lets out a heavy breath she didn’t realize she was holding.

“Um.”

Violet stands in the doorway, change of clothes in her hand, staring at the scene in front of her.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> wake up - arcade fire
> 
> enjoy! this wasn't my favorite to write, but hopefully y'all like it.

**Author's Note:**

> wasteland, baby! - hozier
> 
> this is my first fic of anything ever so hopefully you all enjoy! the tone might be kinda heavy/angsty right now but clem is going thru some deep shit. things will get better, and ofc bad shit will inevitably happen. expect a second chapter in a few days and thank you to anyone who is joining me for the ride!


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